


Venom

by vampireisthenewblack



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ficlet, Ficlet length chapters, Fingerfucking, Flash Fic, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Kanima Toxin, M/M, Paralysis, Prompt Fic, Rimming, sounds dark but it's not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-15 08:35:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/847480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vampireisthenewblack/pseuds/vampireisthenewblack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I could do <i>anything</i>," Stiles says. "You're helpless."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Venom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vailen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vailen/gifts), [Angel_Waters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angel_Waters/gifts).



> Prompt: Venom (from Vailen)
> 
> Getting the word count down for this was a mission and a half, but I did it! First draft was over 1500 words, and I was thinking I'd have to post it as a not-ficlet for a while there, but my OCD wouldn't let me. And I know you're all going to be going 'why? more words=good!' but I'm not wired that way, so, yeah. 1k, bang on.
> 
> Not beta'd. Not set aside after writing or editing, so once again, this could all be drivel. I'm crossing my fingers that it's not...
> 
> 28 July 2013 Edit: There's another chapter from another prompt :)

Stiles puts a drop of venom onto the scratch on the back of Derek's neck, and waits for him to fall.

It's the last of the Kanima toxin. Stiles suspects it's some kind of escape. The Alpha of a pack of teenage werewolves doesn't get much time to relax, after all.

Stiles catches him. "I've got you," he says.

* * *

"I could do _anything_ ," Stiles says. "You're helpless."

Derek closes his eyes and exhales. "Planning on getting me back for all the times I threw you into walls?"

"Weirdly, no." Now that Derek's not watching, Stiles can let his eyes wander. There's a bare strip of stomach where Derek's shirt rode up while Stiles was lying him down. It would be so easy to slide it further so he could get a better look. "My thoughts are surprisingly non-violent right now." He uses one finger to drag Derek's shirt up as far as it will go before it catches at the back. "Yeah," Stiles sighs, letting his eyes roam freely over hard, defined abs.

Derek's eyes snap open. "Stiles?"

"Just looking," Stiles says, pulling his hand back before he's tempted to touch. "I've had lectures from Dad about unwanted touching, except he wasn't talking about voluntarily paralyzed Alpha werewolves, so I'm a little tempted."

Derek's eyes dart around the room, then settle on Stiles. His nostrils flare as he inhales.

Stiles shifts, moving his arm to cover his lap, even though he knows Derek can sense that he's getting hard. He pinches his arm, but it makes no difference. His dick is filling with blood, tenting the front of his sweatpants. "Oh, crap," he whispers.

"Do it," Derek says. "Do whatever you want." Derek closes his eyes again. "I trust you."

Stiles freezes. "Oh my _god_. Are you serious?" He reaches out, can almost feel the warmth of Derek's hard flesh beneath his fingers. He pulls them back. "Cos if this is a joke at my expense, I might have to, like, claw my face off with my bare hands or something."

"No joke." Derek's lips twitch into a smile. "Now, are you gonna touch me, or should I start planning what I'm going to do to you once this wears off?"

"Are we talking violence, or, like, sexual touching? Because I'd much prefer—"

" _Stiles_ ," Derek growls.

"Okay, okay." Stiles traces his fingers over Derek's belly, all hard definition and warmth, but he's almost too nervous to enjoy it. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and lets it out slow, flattens his palms over Derek's stomach and slides them upward, under the shirt, over hard nipples.

Derek takes a quick breath. "You're going the wrong way."

Stiles opens his eyes. Derek's watching him, pupils dilated. "Huh?" Stiles says.

"You should go..." he flicks his eyes up to Stiles, then down the length of his body. "Down."

Stiles follows the path of Derek's eyes, down over his bare stomach, to where his jeans are stretched taut over his cock. "Holy crap," Stiles says, gulping air. "You want me to..." He moves his hands toward the button of Derek's jeans, leaning so far forward in his chair that he falls off of it. "I'm okay," he says as he clambers up the side of the bed and straddles Derek's thighs. "I'm good." He gets Derek's jeans undone, lifts his head, meets Derek's eyes.

"Anything you want to do is fine," Derek says, his breath coming quick and harsh.

Stiles nods and puts his hands into Derek's jeans, pushing down his underwear, pulling out Derek's cock.

"Get my jeans off," Derek whispers.

Stiles whimpers and wriggles down the bed, tugging Derek's jeans and underwear off. Then he climbs back up and stares down at Derek's hard dick, leaking on his belly. "You actually want this," he says in disbelief.

"What I want," Derek rasps, "is for you to do something."

"Right." Stiles wraps his hand around Derek's cock. "But I've only got experience with my own equipment, so if I—"

"Stop thinking, just do it." Derek lets out a frustrated grunt. "Please, Stiles."

"'Kay." Stiles drags his hand down the length, gets a rhythm going, rolling his thumb under the head on every stroke, until Derek is letting out soft grunts of pleasure.

It's driving Stiles crazy. His own dick is throbbing, aching painfully, and he tries to get his free hand into his pants without losing the rhythm he's got going.

"Show me," Derek growls.

Stiles shoves his pants down and repositions himself. He knew having big hands and long fingers would come in handy. He presses Derek's cock against his own and strokes them both.

"Yeah, Stiles," Derek hisses. "Like that, fuck." His hips jerk.

"Holy crap, is it wearing off?"

"Don't you dare stop, Stiles."

"Not stopping." Stiles uses his own hips to thrust his dick through the circle of his fingers, against Derek's cock. It's better than anything he's ever felt, and Derek loves it, his soft grunts have turned into guttural whimpers, he's going to come and Stiles is doing that to him.

Stiles cries out when his orgasm hits, fights to keep his eyes open, to watch as come spills onto Derek's belly. Then Derek arches up off the bed, thick white spurting up his chest in long stripes, cock pulsing in Stiles' hand.

They collapse, limp, gasping, slick with sweat and come, Stiles' cheek pressed against bunched fabric. There's a nipple within reach, and he sticks out his tongue and gives it a lick. Derek shudders, grabs him by the back of the neck and pulls him up.

"Please don't rip my head off," Stiles begs, then his mouth is full of Derek's tongue. "Guess I didn't give you enough venom," he says when Derek pulls back for air. "It wore off fast."

"Or it's lost potency." In one quick movement, Derek flips them, kicking Stiles' legs apart. "Wanna try it? There's a lot of things I'd like to do to you while you're helpless."


	2. Sharpie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the prompt 'sharpie' by Angel_Waters.
> 
> I'm back from [Camp NaNo](http://campnanowrimo.org/)! Finished my story early and under the word count goal, so I grabbed a prompt and wrote this.
> 
> And something else as well, watch out for it in a couple weeks ;)

"Tell me what I'm allowed to do," Derek says.

Stiles lies on his stomach. He's naked, paralyzed. He's safe, though he's conditioned to associate the paralysis with fear and terror. "Isn't the point that you can do whatever you want?" he stammers, unable to keep the nerves out of his voice.

Derek's lips press against the back of his neck, breath warm and slow. "I'm not going to hurt you," he says, "but I need boundaries." His next words are whispered straight into Stiles' ear. "What if I decide I want to fuck you?"

Stiles sucks in air and pillowcase. "Oh my god."

Derek chuckles and pulls back. The bed shifts as he climbs off, and from the corner of his eye Stiles sees Derek grab something off the desk before climbing back on and straddling his thighs. "I'm gonna mark you," Derek says. "For the next half hour, you're mine." There's a hollow snick, a sound Stiles recognizes as a sharpie marker being uncapped, then something traces lines above the crack of his ass.

Stiles almost breaks his neck trying to see what's going on. "Ow. What are you doing? You're writing 'kick me' on my ass, aren't you? Cos Jackson did that already, first week of freshman year. I didn't like it then and—"

"It's my name," Derek says as he caps the pen.

"You wrote your name on my ass?" Stiles blinks. "Oh."

"Mine," Derek says, sliding down between Stiles' thighs, blowing warm air over the crack of Stiles' ass. "Property of Derek Hale," he whispers as he traces a finger over the words.

Stiles gets hard, his dick trapped uncomfortably beneath him. "Dude," Stiles says. "Gonna need a little help here."

Derek pulls the pillow out from underneath Stiles' head, arranges it under his hips, sliding his hand under Stiles' dick so it's cradled comfortably between his stomach and the pillow. Then he nestles himself back between Stiles legs and uses his thumbs to spread Stiles' ass cheeks. He blows gently on Stiles' hole. "Say the word, and I'll stop," he says, and drags his tongue over the sensitive skin.

Stiles' body wants to move, to jerk and thrust back against the wet, warm pressure, but nothing happens. "Oh my god," he whimpers, his voice a high pitched whine. "Tell me the word so I can avoid it like the plague."

Derek lifts his head. "The word is 'stop', Stiles." He leans back in, using the flat of his tongue to reduce Stiles to a whimpering, quivering mess.

Every fiber of Stiles' body screams, telling him to arch his back, to spread his legs. Stiles pants, exhausted, expending energy despite the fact he can't move a muscle. He grunts, hurting, jaw aching because it's the only part of him he can control.

Derek lifts his head. "Relax, Stiles. You've gotta let go. Tell me what you need."

"Honestly? Everything. Holy crap, Derek." Stiles turns his face into the pillow and tries to use his head to lever himself up and back. It doesn't work. "Could you," he tries, but his words get swallowed up by the pillow. He turns his head to the side. "I want... I want... Inside. Something. Fingers, your fingers maybe." Stiles' face burns. "Or you could, I dunno, holy crap." He gasps for breath. "Fuck me."

Derek grips Stiles' ass cheek with one hand, fingers digging into the flesh, and grunts. The bed shifts, rocking slightly. "Stiles," Derek growls, his voice low and menacing. "I'm not going to fuck you."

"You want to, you do, I can tell, oh my god. Please, or, something. God, at least put your tongue back there cos that was _awesome_."

Derek moans as he presses his face back between Stiles cheeks, and the sound vibrates right into him. The pressure of Derek's tongue against Stiles' hole is maddening.

"Inside, fuck, inside," Stiles begs.

The pressure increases, and Stiles lets out a long, drawn-out moan as Derek's tongue enters him, not-quite-pain spreading throughout his body, tingling, almost-burning, white-hot and sparking. His dick throbs and leaks against the pillow, and he wants to thrust against it but can't.

Derek's tongue slips out and dips in, deeper, easier this time, slowly pressing in, and out again. Then a series of quick, deep thrusts, in-out, over and over again.

Stiles' throat is sore from moaning and tears leak from his eyes. He tries to find words, but all that comes out is a groan that sears his throat with its intensity. Derek's tongue disappears, and in its place, a long, thick finger, sliding in slow and deep.

"You are _so... fucking... tight_ ," Derek says, his breath warm, his voice thick and harsh and almost broken. His finger slides out, two press back in, and this time, touch a place inside that whites out Stiles' vision, wipes his mind clean of everything but the most intense pleasure he's ever felt before.

Stiles' orgasm hits him hard, destroying him, smashing him into a million pieces, and leaving him nothing but an inconsequential smear on the landscape.

Reality is Derek's voice, seeming to come from very far away. The sound comes closer as warmth moves up and over Stiles' body, bringing the words right to his ear.

"I think I broke you," Derek chuckles.

Stiles opens one eye, looks up at the blurred mess of dark hair over his shoulder. "You broke it, you bought it," he says.

Derek snorts. "Can you move?"

Stiles flexes his fingers, rubs the edge of the mattress between them. "No."

Derek rolls away, pushes at his shoulder, turning him onto his back. He presses his lips to Stiles' mouth, kisses him with a heat Stiles' has never felt before. "We're gonna do this again," he says. "Without the venom. I want more."

Stiles nods, licks his lips. "My ass is yours. It's got your name on it and everything."

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed reading, please hit the [Kudos ♥] button.
> 
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